


It's Getting Late

by circlecircledotdot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-26 05:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15656898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circlecircledotdot/pseuds/circlecircledotdot
Summary: The evening of graduation, Derek offers Stiles the bite so he can truly be apart of the Pack. One month later, Derek and the Pack leave Beacon Hills, without him. One year later, he begins training as a hunter. Ten years later, the Pack returns, and he isn't quite sure how to handle it.Or, the one where Stiles becomes a hunter to deal with being abandoned by his werewolf best friends, and it really drives Derek crazy.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> My first ffic on this website... super exciting! 
> 
> This first chapter is mostly for filling in information, setting the scene, etc. etc. I promise it will quickly and immediately progress into action packed Sterek soon! Also, I will update tags, rating, and chapter information as I go along. I have a general sense of where it's headed, but things can always change and I'm trying not to give too many spoilers away in tags if I can help it before necessary! 
> 
> All feedback and comments are super appreciated again as I said this is my first ffic here. But I'll stop rambling and let you get on to what you're here for ;-)

**It’s getting late and I**  
**Cannot seem to find my way home, tonight**

  
-

_Derek wasn’t supposed to attend graduation. It wasn’t like he was banned from going or anything dramatic, it was just that he had clearly expressed to Stiles he wasn’t interested. Cramped and limited space, or some flimsy excuse like that. Stiles had given him an invitation regardless. Every student was only allowed two invitations as space was in fact limited, but since Stiles really only had his dad, he decided the extension of “family” to Derek wasn’t that big of a stretch. Truthfully, he had practically forced Derek to take the invitation. Crammed it into his hands before the older realized what it was, then dashed to his Jeep and drove away, leaving no option of immediately returning the invitation._

_He didn’t think Derek understood the depth of the gesture, but he only complained three times to Scott that Derek was clueless. For what it’s worth, three times to repeat something in Stiles’s world was the equivalent of a flickering thought for most. He was fine._

_So when Stiles was anxiously crossing the absurdly long stage to get his high school diploma and spotted Derek out in the crowd, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Derek did understand the gesture after all, and he had complained for nothing. Stiles had never grinned so widely in his life, and he thought he saw Derek grin right back. It could have been the bright lighting of the stadium, though, because Derek Hale was not known to be much of a grinner._

_Stiles hadn’t been able to find Derek after the ceremony, because the moment the caps were in the air, the rest was a blur. Everyone he encountered who he had ever once talked to in high school gave him a hug and the whole “I’ll miss you so much!” spiel that meant next to nothing, and so by the time his dad had found him to meet up for lunch with Scott and Mrs. McCall, he felt like it was too late to go searching for his second guest. It didn’t matter much, though, because he knew he would be seeing Derek that night with the rest of the Pack._

_Lunch went by as a blur similar to the rest of the morning, and soon - yet not quite soon enough - Stiles was in his Jeep, changed out of his suit and tie into a faded baseball tee and jeans, driving to Derek’s family home in the woods._

_No one in the Pack was too fond of parties by graduation, except maybe Lydia who would always thrive on them. But this party was different. Everyone felt the excitement of this. It was the fact that Derek had planned everything, had orchestrated a semi-surprise for his Pack. And although somewhat bittersweet as they were entering their last summer together, they were still a Pack. Celebrating together as a family. Pizza, music, and nostalgic jokes were passed around the whole night. Derek had provided a couple six packs, Lydia had provided a few twelve packs._

_At one point in the night, Stiles had found himself feeling particularly overwhelmed, not wanting to drink and having had his fill of junk food, and stepped outside while everyone stayed inside. He found a spot in the backyard in the grass where he laid on his back and just looked up at the sky. He knew the others would leave him alone to his thoughts, they would surely smell the amount of emotions rolling over him. Yet surprisingly and quietly, Derek had chosen to come outside, sit down beside Stiles without saying anything to him._

_Eventually, Stiles turned his head to look at Derek, who was looking at the sky the way Stiles had been._

_“Thank you, for coming today. It was nice seeing you in the crowd. Meant a lot.” Stiles paused, and felt his rambling habit of backtracking begin. “Not just for me, of course… for the whole Pack. I could see it in their eyes, too.”_

_Derek shrugged, staring up at the sky. Stiles thought maybe he was smiling, but it was hard to read the older. Not just in general, but particularly from his angle laying down, where it was nearly impossible for Stiles to see Derek’s physical face. Stiles squirmed slightly, trying not to make it too obvious that he was staring, but determined to see if Derek was going to show any sign of continuing a conversation. Finally he reached a good angle to see Derek's face, but if he had been smiling, it was replaced now with a pensive stare up at the stars and moon._

_“What are you thinking?” Stiles quietly said, intrigued. He didn't associate Derek to being very pensive. He felt curious. Calm, in fact._

_“Nothing,” Derek said with a soft sigh._

_“Not fair!” Stiles sputtered, “You get to read my mind but I can’t read your’s!” All of the calm energy Stiles felt moments before seized for a split second, replaced by a blur of childlike frustration. So much for that approach, he supposed._

_Derek rolled his eyes, but this time Stiles was positive he saw a small smile slip. “You know I can’t read your mind, Stiles. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it’s just a sensing of emotions.”_

_Stiles pursed his lips before muttering, “Sensing emotions is basically the same thing…”_

_The two stayed in silence again for a few more minutes before finally and unexpectedly, Derek broke it._

_“I’m thinking that... we should play some games as a Pack.”_

_“Games? You expect me to believe that you're sitting here with me thinking that tonight we should kick this party off with some games?” Stiles scoffed, then decided why not roll with it. More gently, he added, “So what kind? Board games? Ooh, or Spin the Bottle, since we are celebrating the passing of high school -”_

_Derek let out a low chuckle, which made Stiles smile, too. Derek’s chuckles were few and far between. Stiles had come to realize that it wasn’t because he didn’t enjoy laughing, or being happy. In fact, he was often more happy than not. He just had a particular sense of humor, and Stiles didn’t fit the category. Derek glanced at Stiles, raising an eyebrow, as if to ask what he was thinking. Stiles almost felt a blush form, and looked back up at the sky._

_They sat in silence, appreciating the joke Derek made, even though it was to avoid something Stiles assumed was serious. He wanted to push more, but then Derek began to talk again._

_“I used to play board games with my family,” Derek offered. Stiles considered it a win, even if it wasn't what he had been thinking moments ago. Any information about Derek’s past, pre-Pack, was a win. He didn’t share often, and when he did, Stiles knew he had done something right. “I was the best at checkers, but Laura was incredibly skilled at chess, which I was always envious of. Takes a lot more skill for chess than checkers. My parents were fond of Clue, but none of us understood the appeal so young. The planning and strategy it takes to win isn’t quite as obvious for kids, so at least one of us usually got grumpy and ended the game early.”_

_Stiles wasn’t quite sure_ why _Derek was sharing so much, but he wasn’t about to interrupt the flow from the stoic Derek Hale._

_“We were all fond of Life and Apples to Apples. Card games like Poker were never first choice, but considering how many there were of us, it was often the best regardless.” Derek paused, then continued more slowly, “I don’t think I’ve touched, or even considered playing a board game since then. Something so simple can hold so much, I suppose.”_

_Stiles nodded in agreement, understanding. He was speaking before he realized,“My mom used to play Monopoly with me for hours on end. I loved the sound of the marbles hitting the wood board, and it was something that kept me calm. She had a great way of finding things to keep me occupied, calm, considering how young I was and we hadn’t realized I had ADHD.”_

_After that, the two rested in silence once again. Stiles looked back at Derek, hoping that now, after opening up a little, Derek was ready to talk more. One on one like this between the two wasn't exactly rare, they had had plenty of interactions over the years. But there had never been moments where they laid down and just talked the way they were right now._

_“Soooo... you gunna tell me what you were thinking yet?”_

_Derek smiled. “You’re relentless, you know that?”_

_“I am the way I am just for you.”_

_“Well in that case I guess I have to answer.” Derek rolled his eyes, before letting his face fall into a more pensive, almost concerned expression. “I’m thinking that I don’t want to lose you. The others… the others will always be drawn back to me. They’ll feel the force of distance and crave moments when they get to be with me, their Alpha. But you won’t, at least not the same way. That’s why I didn’t want to go to graduation. I knew that seeing you would make it much more real, the recognition that you’re leaving Beacon Hills.”_

_Derek stopped, and Stiles knew he had more to say, but he couldn’t help himself from blurting out a quick rebuttal._

_“What about Allison and Lydia? They don’t have the_ mystical _attraction that I lack,” Stiles didn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it did. He thought he saw Derek flinch slightly, but decided to chalk it up to poor human eyesight in the dark._

_“They’re dating people who will be, though.” Derek huffed another sigh, keeping his eyes firmly up at the sky. Stiles felt something move ever so slightly in his stomach, but he chose to ignore it. “Sometimes - quite selfishly I might add - I wish you had been bitten at some point. Maybe not that same night as Scott, but just at some point along the way. You would have made such a natural wolf, Stiles. And that way, I would see you more than I’m going to.”_

_“You really think I won’t visit?”_

_“That’s not really what I meant,” Derek finally looked down at Stiles, letting Stiles see how soft and sad Derek’s eyes and smile were. “I want you to actively miss me. Enough that you’re drawn back the way the others will. Like I said, pretty selfish of me. Pretty selfish of me, huh?”_

_It wasn’t really as much of a question as it was a statement. Stiles felt his eyebrows furrow. Derek had never been so honest with him before. At least not in so many words. Yes there had been moments before this night when Stiles had learned about Derek’s family, small and honest details that left the older vulnerable. But never, never anything like what he was saying now. Stiles also knew it was pointless to try and argue with Derek, say he wasn’t selfish for wanting that. Because he knew what Derek was saying. He felt the same way._

_Reaching out a tentative hand, Stiles rested his on top of Derek’s, never breaking eye contact. The two stayed like that for a few minutes, staring at one another, taking the other in as if the moment would never end._

_“I think I would have made a pretty good wolf, too. Better than Scott, that’s for sure. All he did to abuse the supernatural was playing lacrosse which is so dumb it's almost cliche. I woulda done some superhero shit, you know? Like, not just the fighting all the weird things we actually fight. But stopping robberies or something, a real Marvel superhero beginning before an alien or something comes to fight earth, and I fight back.” By the time Stiles was finished, he was grinning. He knew that Derek had continued to open up in a serious way, but he couldn't help himself._

_“And now I remember why I’ve waited to say this,” Derek chucked, rolling his eyes. But despite the joking, Stiles knew there was something serious in his tone, and his smile slipped a little out of confusion._

_“Say what?”_

_Derek moved so he was resting on his elbows, keeping the one hand touching Stiles’s, but leveling himself so they were more eye to eye than before. He cleared his throat, and Stiles could tell he was nervous. An odd, out of place emotion to see on the older’s face._

_“Stiles, I want to offer you the bite. Not just because of my selfish reasons but… but because I think it’s been a long time of you lingering on the edge of the Pack. I think of you as an equal member, and so does everyone else. But I don’t think you think of yourself as that. And frankly you should, because you are such an important role in all of our lives. But also I want you to feel secure leaving like everyone else. Knowing you have the Pack always at the end of the day. Not a forced pull, but a reminder that you are apart of something.” Derek paused, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again._

_Stiles wasn’t sure what to say. He felt his face relax into a completely neutral expression, and just stared openly at Derek, who stared back, waiting for some sort of response. But how did someone respond to something like that? Stiles had dreamed about the bite ever since he saw the attention it brought to Scott. Not just the new abilities, but the family it brought to him. And sure Stiles was apart of that, but Derek had a point… he wanted to be as equal as everyone else. He wanted the physical pull back to his Alpha, his Pack. And when he was the useless human tagging along with a baseball bat, constantly needing saving, it was hard to consider himself equal._

_But, did he_ want _the bite? Did he want to achieve the status of the Pack while losing the simple, non-supernatural person he was? He had always known that no one in the Pack would pass it on to him - he knew because he had asked each person multiple times. Jackson hadn’t really cared and had eventually given in, but the others had prevented him from fully going through with it. It was like Stiles's humanity was something sacred that everyone felt the need to protect, except Stiles himself. S _o was it only something he wanted because it was unattainable?_ Because now, being faced with the real opportunity that he had said he wanted, he felt lost. _

_“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Derek blurted, sitting up right. Stiles felt his eyes widen, realizing he had spent several minutes in complete silence, just reflecting, never responding. But truly he felt more surprised by Derek’s behavior. He was flustered, overwhelmed, still incredibly nervous. It was so new, so raw, that Stiles found himself still at a loss for words. But he knew he couldn’t let Derek continue thinking he was in the wrong for asking. He moved into an upward position, too, meeting Derek's body language before speaking._

_“I need time to think,” Stiles finally managed. Derek nodded a few times, eyes fixated on Stiles’s, holding him in deep with their deep gold glow. “You’re right. I want to be a bigger, better part of the Pack. But it’s not something I want to say yes to right now in this moment, if that’s okay? And while I decide, can you promise not to tell anyone else? I don't want them to influence my decision.”_

_Derek smiled faintly. “Of course it’s okay, Stiles. Most of us never really had the opportunity to choose, at least not as freely as you. It’s not something you need to decide immediately. And it'll stay just between us, I promise.” Derek sucked in a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter closed for a second before looking back at Stiles once more, smiling so sweet Stiles felt butterflies in his stomach. “We have all the time in the world.”_

_And Stiles knew, in the very center of his being, that Derek was telling the truth._

-

Stiles stared patiently into the dark woods around him as he crouched, knees and calves soaked from the thick mud he had now been resting in for over thirty minutes. His arms held the long gun, cocked and ready to go at any moment, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips a thin line, all in concentration.

This was the spot he had been told to wait in, and so he waited. He and four others waited in a perfect semi-circle, obscured from clear sight. Stiles hated waiting, always had and most likely always would. It was worse when he was younger in high school, though, dependent solely on a pill every morning to calm him even just slightly. Now, after harsh training first in the police academy and then beyond for his… _side job_ , he had found methods to keep his breathing calm and his mind from wandering a million miles a minute, no pills necessary. He supposed age was the cure for some things. And he had done a good bit of waiting in his life.

A soft _bzthp_ came from his pocket, and without losing focus on his aim, he pulled the walkie talkie out.

“Stilinski, do you have eyes on the target yet?” An abrupt voice came barreling out of the speaker, and Stiles flinched. He knew there was still enough distance between him and the werewolf to worry about revealing himself, but he needed to end this sooner rather than later. A loud walkie-talkie in an otherwise silent night would be a giveaway.

“Not yet, sir,” Stiles answered in the quietest he could manage, “you’re - er - interrupting at the moment. We are in formation and will get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Hurry it up, will you? We need this area done with for the night. And remember, this creature is strong. Stronger than most. Don't let that fool you.”

Stiles nodded, although the man on the other end wouldn’t have known. He gave a brief word of understanding, then slipped the walkie talkie back into his pocket, clipped in place.

It wasn’t for another twenty minutes that some action finally began. His hands were starting to shake a little, and he could begin to see his breath form in soft clouds in front of his face. The air was growing cold rapidly, and Stiles felt goosebumps forming under his jacket. He had a suspicion that they were growing more out of tension and anticipation than the October evening.

A sudden shot burst from him, a few hundred yards to the left. Stiles knew the werewolf was going to be in sight any minute. If it had already reached the outer edge of the semi-circle, it would be in Stiles’s sight any second…

The second the massive creature bustled into Stiles’s focus, his finger clicked. He was not known for missing a shot, especially in a situation like this, where the first in the semi-circle either did miss, or the creature was stronger than expected. It’s long limbs gave out for a shuddering second with Stiles’s hit. Stiles felt his breath sucked in deep as the creature raised its massive head in Stiles's direction. The thick dark night covered most of the creature save the outline of its body, but the way the moon light caught its claws and its eyes was all too familiar. The bold red eyes that stared directly at Stiles gave him chills. It always did. Made him remember a time when he empathized with eyes like those. A time when he would have done anything to save the man who possessed them. 

Stiles had hesitated too long. Like a newborn animal, the werewolf managed to scramble onto shaky limbs, and continue to run. Stiles hissed with anger, at himself for being distracted to easily, and at the others in the woods for not taking action. He straightened himself from his crouch in the bushes, aiming for another shot. As he aimed, he noticed something on the ankle of the werewolf, a shiny patch of skin caught by the moonlight. He pressed his finger against the trigger.

But before he could finish the shot, he felt a gentle vibration in his pocket. Unlike his walkie talkie, his cellphone was not officially allowed on missions such as this. On the one hand, Stiles recognized that the policy was policy for a reason, but he had also found that his anxiety skyrocketed if it wasn’t on his person. Even if it wasn’t used. To keep himself balanced, he would leave the phone on vibrate, but the only person who actually had vibrate turned on was his dad. His dad, who knew better to text or call when Stiles was “working”.

Panic lurched in Stiles’s stomach. The werewolf was bounding away, gaining speed and recovery with every second. It was still in his vision, his gun could still reach it, but he saw some of the others chasing after it to his left.

Stiles quickly pulled out his phone to answer his dad.

“Is everything okay?” He blurted, not waiting for small talk. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yes, Stiles I’m fine… Where are you right now? Are you close to home?”

Sheriff Stilinski’s voice sounded strained, but not in trouble. Not threatened. Stiles felt his breathing continue a little, knowing his dad was okay at the least. He could no longer see the lights of everyone chasing after the werewolf, and the sounds of gunshots were far too distant for him to be concerned of his dad over hearing.

“Not really. I could be home immediately if needed, though. What’s going on?” Stiles started to stand up, feeling his legs creak a little under the sudden change of movement.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Sheriff Stilinski took a deep breath before continuing, “but Scott just came by, asking for you.”

-

Before, Scott coming by Stiles’s childhood home looking for Stiles would have been normal. But now, hearing his dad tell Stiles that Scott came by, casual just like old times? Not too normal anymore.

Stiles sighed heavily and dramatically. He was in a rush to get back to Beacon Hills, but it was mostly small streets and lots of lights to get back from the smaller town he had been in. It was under an hour drive, but Stiles felt every heavy second drip past in a way he didn’t realize was possible. The impatience of wanting to be back home was making him weary.

His fingers fidgeted against the steering wheel, creating little _tlep tlep tlep_ noises against the leather. His mind was racing, but all around remained on one familiar center: ScottScottScott. He had so many questions, and he wasn’t sure how to start. Not just with himself, but with Scott once he saw him. Assuming he saw him.

The others had been understanding when Stiles said he needed to leave, although all Stiles had told them was that his dad called him for an emergency and he had to head home. They had lost the werewolf regardless, despite the number of bullets that had sunk into it. It was rare that they lost a hunt, especially wounding it the way they did. But it wasn’t a normal werewolf, either. It had been an Alpha, and a strong one, at that. But Stiles couldn’t focus on that at the moment. Although his hunter career had become the most time consuming aspect of his life, he was a bit more preoccupied with thoughts of the Pack.

Flinching at his own thought, Stiles sucked in a deep breath. The Pack was not a phrase he had had in awhile. At least, in the sense he was thinking now. It was all he could do to not have thought, my Pack. He allowed himself a minute to wonder if they were all still together, after all this time. If they still referred to themselves as a whole pack, even without his role. Because if they had all left together, surely they would have returned together.

His throat felt dry. Why bother thinking about what they were all doing together at this point. He was not apart of they, and he had found his new group. His new “Pack”. Stiles chuckled a little at the thought of calling the other hunters a pack, they would lose their minds on him, question if he himself had ever changed.

_Oh, I’ve changed alright._

It had been ten years since he’d seen Scott McCall, and he had changed dramatically to say the least. Gaining weight that was purely muscle, even gaining a couple inches in height during a freak late growth spurt, he was bigger than some of the werewolves they had encountered in high school. Yet there was still something a little gangly about him. Stiles always thought it was because he had kept his baby face. That is, if you ignored the scar running across his cheek, and the dark weight that kept itself under his eyes year round.

Stiles never found himself focused on these details, though. Sometimes he’d get a glance at himself in the mirror, and be reminded of high school. He had always been tired, then, anyway, so really he felt like nothing had changed. In a moment of exhaustion and insecurity, he had gotten an ear pierced, hoping to appear older or more mature. All it had done was gain unwanted attention from his co workers, both at the precinct and from other hunters, teasing. He thought it made him look sensitive. They used less than savory terms in place. It did get him attention he desired at bars, though.

But it wasn’t just the physical aspects that had changed. Stiles’s entire demeanor was different. Yes, he still rambled from time to time. But he wasn’t so focused on pop culture references, and his clumsy but gentle attitude had been replaced by something harder. Call it a mix of growing older and being abandoned by everyone he knew at once.

Over time when he recognized his own growth, he caught himself wondering about Scott and the others. He’d wonder if Lydia would consider him attractive now that he had outgrown the boyish body, or if Derek would appreciate his ability to contribute. Of course, he doubted if much of his growth would have occurred if he hadn’t become a cop, or a hunter, for that matter.

He had planned on going to college, though he was unsure of what he would study, he would have figured it out once he got there. But then when the Pack left, he felt drained, unable to go to school. He stayed in his dad’s house 24/7, playing video games, eating just enough to not pass out when he stood up to go to the bathroom. It had happened once. He probably would have stayed like that too, if his dad hadn’t forced him to start therapy. And then, because he needed to do something, he joined the academy. Just like that, in his dad’s shoes, slightly less depressed.

It took years to get over it, though. And even now, after ten long years, he wasn’t quite sure if he _was_. If someone had asked him the day before he would have said yes, and he would have believed himself, too. But now, after the phone call from his dad, he felt unbelievably crippled by the information once more. It wasn’t just a devastation as the old emotions came rolling in, it was something more. Something that tore piece by piece at every layer of his skin, muscle, bones, all to the core of his being. And there was nothing he could do to stop it from building and boiling. He wanted to scream, but he felt a responsibility behind the wheel to contain emotions from breaking through physically.

By the time he arrived at his dad’s house, some of the emotions had worn off, at least the ones that were threatening to break the surface from internal to external. The emotions subsided even more when he realized all the lights were off in the house except the porch and kitchen - an old habit Sheriff Stilinski had kept from when Stiles was in high school, coming home and needing only the front and back doors to be lit. Stiles was happy to see that, at the least, there weren’t flickering lights of the TV, meaning his dad had fallen asleep in bed for once. Save his back some unnecessary pains in the morning. He pulled his car hastily into a park in front of the house, not bothering to go into the driveway.

Because if his dad was asleep, that meant Scott wasn’t there. At least not inside, not talking to Sheriff Stilinski. And Scott knew better than to wait around at the house for Stiles when it was obvious Stiles didn’t live there anymore. He wondered if Scott would go to Stiles’s place, if he even knew where it was. He doubted his dad would pass out the address willy nilly, even if it was to Scott. But Scott wasn’t really Scott anymore, not the same way he had been in high school, where Sheriff Stilinski wouldn’t have blinked an eye to give out Stiles’s address.

Stiles decided it didn’t hurt to wait. He stared at the house, eyes flickering from corner to corner, for nearly an hour. His fingers were still gripped tightly into the steering wheel, but he found himself calming down the longer he waited, even though he was looking for signs of Scott.

Eventually, he felt his eyes wander along with his thoughts up to the window of his old bedroom, unable to continue looking for Scott without being attracted to the part of the house they spent the most time in.

Through the dark, he could catch just slight reflections of furniture, lit ever so slightly by the moon’s glow. His curtains shifted briefly, and he realized the window was cracked an inch, letting in a cool breeze, as if someone were sleeping in there and needed the fresh air.

He hadn’t slept in that room - let alone been in the room - since he bought his first apartment, a few months after he started training at the academy. There had just been no need. Most of his belongings he had left there. Everything, in some shape or another, reminded him of the friends that had left, and he had needed a fresh start.

His eyes focused on the cracked window once more, and he felt a smile tug at his lips, remembering the countless times Derek had pried it open silently, just to startle Stiles. On the surface, it would only be to deliver a message about the Pack, and Stiles would always ask why Derek hated texting so much. But deep down Stiles knew Derek enjoyed doing it because he liked the excuse of seeing Stiles one-on-one. He always had a different attitude when “delivering a message” if someone else was there other than Stiles. He didn’t pout, per se, but he wasn’t ever as gentle. Never looked at Stiles the same way in front of others as he did alone.

Stiles closed his eyes. Now wasn’t the time to be reminiscing moments like that, moments that made him yearn for the Pack, especially now that they were possibly back. He needed answers. And his dad’s house wasn’t going to be the place for them considering Scott was nowhere in sight and his dad was asleep. With a heavy sigh, he turned the engine of his car back on, beginning the drive across town to his own house.

Beacon Hills wasn’t large. A decently sized city, big enough to have several schools and a downtown area, but compared to the known cities of California? It was pretty pathetic. Stiles had always found it attractive, though. Not just because he grew up there and had the nostalgia associated, but he found the woods that surrounded the city fantastical. Yes, he knew what went bump in the night within the deepest corners of the woods, but the charm of the countryside-meets-city was never lost on him.

That wasn’t the case for most hunters. Beacon Hills was famous in the hunter community of the west coast, because no matter what it was you were hunting, it often came through Beacon Hills at some point. Yet despite that, it was rare for a hunter to actually live in the city. That was because most hunters didn’t choose the lifestyle, but rather, they inherited it. Either by a long family history of the profession, or because they had loved ones killed. More often than not by werewolves.

Stiles had been a rare case, and he didn’t like to talk about how his best friends in high school were werewolves. He especially didn’t like to talk about the fact that he had been considered apart of a legendary Pack in Beacon Hills, the Hales. Because although none of them were blood related, it was still the Hale Pack, no matter how broken up. And that was a problem for a lot of Stiles’s coworkers. Many of them didn’t trust him for the first few months he worked. Thought he was a double spy, something along those lines. It wasn’t until he killed his first werewolf in front of a large group that he was trusted completely. He had gone home and cried about it, but to the hunters, it changed everything. He had become one of them.

He never admitted that to himself, though.

Stopped at a red light, Stiles forced his shoulders to relax, rolling his neck and back out to release some built up tension from the long night. No one had texted him about the mission he had abandoned, so he assumed they were still on it and didn’t need the back up. If he didn’t hear back by morning, he’d reach out. But he was ready to go to bed. He hadn’t realized it, but it was approaching two in the morning. He had the next day off, but he anticipated an early morning call from his boss to bark out questions about his sudden departure.

Lost in thought, he almost didn’t realize his phone was glowing from the seat beside him. Glancing at the red light, deciding he had enough time to read a text, he picked up his phone to see the notification.

 _From: Scott McCall_  
_3432 Clover Drive_  
_5th floor, Room 516_  
_Code is 06355_

He knew it was an address. The question remained, did he bother going to the address. For ten years, he had longed for some sort of response from Scott, from Derek, hell even from Jackson. Just anyone from the Pack. He had kept their contacts in his phone and texted each of them for a couple years, up until someone new got Derek's number and told him to stop trying. And now, his childhood best friend was giving him what he needed. A meeting place.

Stiles was going to see Scott for the first time in ten years.

-

Stiles arrived at the address within a matter of minutes. A large apartment complex unfortunately not too far from his own place. He assumed his was some sort of cosmic joke, not planned purposefully by whoever he was about to see.

He stared at his hands, clenching the wheel of his car. He was shaking violently, feeling more anxious than he had felt in a long, long time. It took a lot for him to get anxious nowadays, which was good, considering both of his high-stakes jobs. He was having second thoughts, doubts about himself, about the situation, about everything. But challenging all the doubts were the questions he had been holding on to for so long, the questions he may finally have answers to.

After what felt like hours, but was truly only seconds, Stiles opened his car door, tucking his keys into his back pocket. After much debate with himself, he decided to keep a gun on his person, tucked into a strap under his shirt. He knew that if he were about to see anyone in the Pack as he anticipated, they would know it was there. But he decided that going in unarmed would be worse. He didn’t know these people anymore, after all.

It wasn’t hard to get into the apartment. The code was only needed once, at the outside entrance to the building. From there the elevator was immediately to his left, and the stairs to his right. He wanted the extra minutes the stairs would give, but he was already started to sweat from nerves, and decided to take the cool elevator. He hadn’t quite realized how large the building was until he was in the elevator, examining the buttons that could take him up to the twentieth floor. The fifth floor felt like nothing.

When he arrived outside the door, staring at the gold plated numbers, 516, he felt his stomach churning. Excitement, fear, paranoia, anxiety, joy. He didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, but all of it made him feel as though he were going to throw up.

He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated, hearing multiple voices from inside. At least two distinct, but maybe there were more. Scott, perhaps. He was the one who had texted in the first place. But the other he couldn’t place, only that it was two male voices, which meant he was dealing with werewolves for sure. He felt happy with his choice in bringing the gun.

He only was able to knock twice before the door swung open, and he was face to face with Derek. He didn’t have much time to really take him in, other than who he was, before Derek spoke.

“Is that an earring?”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a *really* quick update, I can't guarantee it will always be like this, I just got so excited and wanted to write ASAP! But hopefully I will be cranking this out, I'm just so happy to finally be on here. Again, I really appreciate all feedback as this is my first published ffic. I love hearing what all of you think is going to happen ;-) 
> 
> Also, I can confidently say there will be 12 chapters! Again, will update tags as I go along. If there's anything you believe I should be tagging, let me know. I want to keep it as as spoiler free as possible while still gaining attention! 
> 
> Some actual hints at Sterek this time around... enjoy ~

******With everything falling down around me** **  
** **I’d like to believe in all the possibilities**

-

“ _What_?!” Stiles barked. The nerves he had been feeling up until the moment were gone, and all he felt now was pure, unfiltered rage. It was the first time he had seen Derek in ten years, and all that was said to him is some stupid remark about an earring.

Derek seemed caught off guard by himself, too. He blinked slowly at Stiles as if he didn’t register what he had said. He shook his head a little. “I’m sorry, I guess that’s not important -”

“You’re sure as hell right it’s _not important_ ,” Stiles interrupted. “What’s _important_ is why you’re here, and why you used Scott to get me here. Him going to my dad? Texting me? Interrupting my night? Screw you, Derek.”

Derek’s expression hadn’t changed the entire time Stiles fumed, he simply blinked at stared. Eventually he spoke, “If you’d like to come inside, Scott’s here, too. Maybe he can explain a little.”

Stiles didn’t need to be offered twice. He pushed past Derek, who seemed to be in some sort of dumb shock, and walked into the apartment. He found it bewilderingly similar to the one Derek had had years ago before they all cleaned up the Hale house. A narrow hallway that burst open into a kitchen, dining area, and large living space. A staircase tucked to the right, no doubt that led to bedrooms, although there seemed to be a few bedrooms and a bathroom on the lower level as well. What was shocking to Stiles beyond the large space was that it was furnished, and nothing seemed new. It smelled and looked lived in, as if it had been an occupied apartment for years. If Stiles was being totally honest with himself, it looked more lived in than his own house.

He was suddenly distracted by the observation of the space when Scott stood up from a couch. Stiles eyed him warily, stopping a few meters away. Scott looked incredibly different, but also incredibly the same. He still had the same soft curls that framed his face, trimmed close to his head but just long enough you knew he had them. And his jaw was still square, defined. He was larger than before, but Stiles could tell it was all muscle. He was doing more than lacrosse practices, that was for sure. On his face now was stubble, and lines that hadn’t been there before. He looked aged, but that disappeared instantly with a smile Stiles wasn’t expecting to see.

“Hey, Stiles.”

Stiles wasn’t sure how to respond. He definitely didn’t mirror the smile, but he couldn’t tell if it was because he was still angry, or if it was because he wasn’t expecting the smile in the first place. Scott opened his arms up a little, as if offering Stiles a hug.

Hesitating, Stiles wobbled in place, then confidently he walked towards Scott. Scott’s small smile started to grow, but instead of embracing his old best friend, Stiles’s hand formed a fist. Scott made a noise, but it was too late, and Stiles landed his fist into Scott’s stomach. He knew it wouldn’t do much what with Scott’s healing abilities, but Scott doubled over regardless. Stiles ignored the pain that had splintered into his own knuckles from the hard abs of the werewolf, and took a step back, distancing himself from Scott so he didn’t swing again. Because as much as it hurt, he was tempted.

“Stiles,” Derek spoke softly but firmly from behind. A warning. “Back off.”

“No,” Stiles nearly shouted, whirling around to point a finger at Derek. “No, you do not get to tell me to _back off_ . You are not my Alpha, you have absolutely no control over me. And _you_ ,” Stiles turned back to Scott, eyes narrowing into a harsh glare. “ _You_ do not get to nonchalantly address me, offering a hug like it’s only been a few months since we last time we saw one another. No ‘Long time no see’s or ‘What’s been up lately’s. That isn’t how this works. You don’t get to leave for _ten years_ how you want and then come back how you want.”

Scott glanced nervously between Derek and Stiles, and Stiles felt his anger grow even more. He hadn’t expected to bubble over that quickly, especially with how nervous he had been feeling just moments before. He wasn’t confident it would stop, though.

“You’re right,” Derek said again with the soft yet firm voice. Although it was the same voice from before, Stiles felt bothered this time around, as if he were being condescended. “How do you want to proceed?”

It was so diplomatic, but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to reciprocate the same gesture. It was all he took to not punch Derek, too. Or maybe worse. He had learned a few tricks over the past years against werewolves, after all.

“How do I want to proceed?” Stiles practically spat. “Well if this were up to me at all you wouldn’t have come back. But if you’re asking what I want to do now that you’ve made that decision regardless, then maybe we can start with why. Why you’re back, and why you’ve had to involve me. You could have made your stop in Beacon Hills without asking me to come here. Or at least without bothering my _dad_.”

“I did tell Scott not to go to your dad,” Derek sighed, giving Scott a certain look. “He acted against me. I _knew_ you wouldn’t be there anymore but Scott was feeling a little... _impatient_ , to see you.”

“Impatient? You expect me to believe that?”

And with that, Stiles knew he finally had broken through. Scott flinched, but Stiles knew it wasn’t a polite flinch. He wasn’t doing it to make Stiles feel better. No, Scott flinched because it hurt. But Stiles wasn’t ready to stop.

He turned to Scott full on, feeling like he was reaching his boiling point. “If you were so impatient to see me, you would have been back sooner than ten years, Scott. Do you realize the _pain_ you put me through? My life centered around you, around the Pack.”

Stiles shifted so that they both could see him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look either in the eye. He wanted them to recognize his anger, yet there was no anger left in him. No, all the anger was rapidly being replaced by unfiltered, nostalgic sadness. But he couldn’t stop himself from continuing to talk, either.

“The day after you all left, I thought it was a prank. A pretty mean one considering how anxious I was in high school, but nonetheless, a prank. It wasn’t until a week went by that I really began to worry, because that was when my dad told me that _your mom_ , Scott, had been in the precinct every day asking they do a search for you. She was convinced something was wrong because you weren’t responding to her texts or calls, but they said you were legally an adult now. That it wasn’t enough to be considered missing. But my dad had known something was wrong because I hadn’t heard back from you, either. And then soon after Lydia’s parents were in the precinct, too. They couldn’t ignore a _girl_ being missing, though.” Stiles sucked in a deep breath. “But I knew better. I _knew_ that you all weren’t missing. Nothing could have taken all of you, not unless you all chose to leave. My dad only got them to stop looking when he realized that I had stopped.”

“Stiles, I know it looks bad -” Scott tried, but Stiles looked up at him, absolutely stunned.

“Looks bad? That’s what you think? That it _looks_ bad? There is nothing, no excuse you could tell me that would cause me to explain it like that. _Looks bad_ suggests that there’s a real explanation for the awful choice you made. _Looks bad_ suggests that it was only a few months, and that it would be easy to forgive and forget.” Stiles shook his head, staring at Scott sadly. But it was no longer the self-pitying sad from before, it was as if he pitied Scott. “Yes, it looks bad. Because it _is_ bad. Because you are an awful, self-centered excuse for a -”

“STOP.”

Stiles nearly jumped. Derek hadn’t shouted, but his voice was almost an echo, as if it had come from within Stiles’s own head. He looked at Derek just soon enough to see the red fading from his eyes. It was clear his diplomatic patience had vanished considering Stiles wasn’t willing to cooperate.

“Stiles, you have every right to be angry. I would be. But you’re misdirecting your anger.” Derek’s teeth showed while he spoke, little threatening glimpses behind curled lips. “I’m the only one to blame, not Scott. He’s the one who convinced us to come back here in the first place, and the reason it took so long to begin with is because he _challenged me_ for the role of Alpha. I decided to deal with being here in order to save both of our lives. So _stop_.”

At first, Stiles felt small. He felt stupid, and useless. All feelings he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. But it was a fleeting feeling, and just as quickly as it had come, it was being replaced by the reminder that he was now as strong if not stronger than Derek Hale. That he didn’t have to warp his feelings, be punished and bossed around by the older anymore.

Straightening his back, demonstrating his physical growth, Stiles looked at Derek straight in the eyes. “No, Derek. You’re _all_ to blame. I don’t care about Pack dynamics, not anymore. Because clearly, you don’t, either. Or else you wouldn’t have abandoned me in the first place.” Stiles paused, and continued a little more softly, “You once told me that you thought of me as an equal member of the Pack, and you wanted me to feel that way too. Instead, you took it away entirely. You _offered me the bite_ , Derek. And then you disappeared, knowing I had no way to find you. Knowing I was going to accept it, only for you to take it back, no explanation.”

Silence surrounded the three men as they stood there, Derek and Stiles staring one another down while Scott nervously looked back and forth. Stiles realized, suddenly, that was the first time he had ever verbally admitted to Derek having offered the bite, then leaving. He then realized, seeing the way Scott’s mouth was hanging open and how Derek was looking at him, that Scott didn’t know. Stiles took a deep breath in, blinking his eyes. He had a long streak of not crying about this, and he wasn’t ready to break that.

“Whatever. If you aren’t going to tell me why you’re back, then I’m going to leave,” Stiles finally said, keeping his stare firm at Derek, but letting his back relax somewhat. He wanted to remain an equal threat, standing up to Derek’s physical challenge, but he also knew that he had to give in to get anything in return.

Derek didn’t respond immediately, but Stiles didn’t move to the door. Not just yet. He wanted to hear an actual rejection, first.

“We’re tracking -” Scott started, but Derek made a low, gutteral noise, stopping him. Stiles swore he heard Scott whimper.  

“If I give you details about why we’re here, you’re just going to go report it to your little _hunter_ friends.” Derek’s lip curled on the word hunter, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. “And yes I know all about that, don’t think for a second you’ve eluded us. You may want to blame us for abandoning you, but you chose to isolate yourself even further at the same time.”

Stiles flinched. He hadn’t thought of it that way. He became a hunter because he wanted to find people who could empathize with him, beyond just the surface level of all his friends mysteriously disappearing. He wanted to find people who knew about the existence of werewolves, and that had been the easiest solution. Stiles wasn’t exactly known for choosing difficult or challenging solutions when an easy one arose.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice. Always.”

“Right, like your choice to leave. So if you want to criticize me, fine. But I stand by my decision like I assume you stand by yours, because not once have _either_ of you apologized. Don’t worry though, I’m not holding my breath for one.” Stiles crossed his arms, feeling the nerves begin to kick in. He was fine directing anger at Derek and Scott, but now it was being directed at himself, and he didn’t want that to throw him off in this moment. “I wasn’t going to go to them, though. Not unless I thought it would affect us, or affect Beacon Hills. I’m not a snitch, and I’m not trying to get you all killed, as much as I want you gone. But you need to remember, I have a job other than being a hunter. A legit, paid _job_ as a _cop_ that entails me putting in service to _protect_.”

Derek had the nerve to roll his eyes. “Stiles, we will need your help. Eventually. _Soon_ . But it’s not a threat right now, not just yet, to anyone but us. Like you said, making your _friends_ aware of it now would only put us in danger more so, and we could use without that. So yes, I need you to keep quiet if we tell you.”

Stiles wanted to make a bitter comment about the way Derek said _friends_ , but decided to drop it. He didn’t want to make any promises about offering help, but now he didn’t want to keep a promise that he wouldn’t tell the others. It wasn’t because he wanted to spite the Pack, but whatever they were “tracking” sounded big. Big enough to make Derek nervous. Stiles could only remember Derek being so nervous the night he was offered the bite.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Stiles slowly spoke, thinking his next steps very carefully. “A deal to keep quiet.”

“What do you want in return.” Derek’s eyes narrowed significantly, and Stiles couldn’t help but want to smile. He had never been so sure in his ability to threaten Derek.

“I want to know why you left. I think I deserve an explanation, especially after what you had offered -”

“No.” Derek didn’t hesitate, and Stiles knew his answer was final. Stiles looked at Scott, who simply just shook his head. Slowly, sadly. So he wasn’t going to get it out of him, either.

“Why not?” Stiles barked.

Derek just shook his head, too. “You don’t know what you’re asking. I’m sorry we bothered you for help, it won’t happen again. You can leave now.”

And with that, Derek strode to the front door, opening it wide and looking back at Stiles. Stiles didn’t need a second invitation to leave despite his curiosity. Curiosity towards the sudden return, and curiosity towards the initial leaving. He walked through the door, to the elevator, and didn’t look back.

-

It had been a couple days since the night Stiles saw Scott and Derek, and he still recoiled remembering the way he let his emotions get the best of him. He could have gotten real answers, at least _something_ , if he hadn’t acted so quickly, so brashly. But instead, all he did was yell and condescend. He felt incredibly juvenile, as if he hadn’t learned anything about himself since high school.

The morning after, he had the day off from work, and instead of doing anything productive, he stayed in the house all day. Never changed out of the same pair of sweatpants, binged a new HBO show, and ate nothing but Doritos. If he hadn’t felt like he was in high school the previous night, he definitely did that day. He had fallen asleep by six pm.

But now, it had been two days, and he was at work - his real job at the precinct, not just his volunteered services - over come with paperwork. Normally, he’d complain. Find a way to bother his dad or his coworkers. But today he felt he needed the mindless busy work, the unflawed organization that distracted him from his own _un_ organized thoughts.

Not only did he need the busy work, though, he found himself interested in what he was reading and organizing. There were four hunters who worked at the precinct in Beacon Hills, Stiles included, and it was up to them to search for anything that could be supernatural fowl play. That was the main reason this job attracted so many hunters to begin with.

Stiles was sitting at his desk, filing something irrelevant - a car accident caused by a deer running in the road, no injuries - when Earl Easton, Stiles’s regular partner, approached him.

“Got everything cleared the other night?”

With a sigh, Stiles dropped his pen and sat back in his chair, swiveling it around to face Easton while still sitting. He shrugged and rolled his eyes.

“Just about. It was more of a false alarm than anything, you know how protective my dad is.”

Easton gave a low chuckle. Everyone knew the Sheriff, and Easton had started at the same time as Stiles, meaning he was there when Stiles was getting nothing but traffic duty his first year. It wasn’t until he confronted his Sergeant, who admitted the Sheriff had spoken to him about keeping Stiles on easy tasks. It wasn’t that Stiles couldn’t handle the job, it was that the Sheriff couldn’t handle it. If only he knew the full extent of what Stiles did outside of work.

“Regardless, you missed one _Hell_ of a chase,” Easton continued. Stiles nodded politely, zoning in and out of what Easton was saying. Something about how each of them had also landed shots after Stiles did, yet the monster of a werewolf kept recovering. Fastest recovery they had ever seen. Luckily they had kept it from getting too close to the city, but still, they were all nervous about the fact that it got away. “Maybe it wouldn’t have gotten away if you had stayed, though.”

“I know, I know,” Stiles mumbled, playing along. If this thing really were something strong enough to get away like that, then there’s no way Stiles would have been much help. But he wasn’t about to say that.

“Well anyway,” and Easton started to chat about meaningless life stuff, clearly avoiding his own paperwork. Stiles knew it had been a bit of a dry spell, nothing supernatural in Beacon Hills for once. He wondered if that was going to change or not now that the Pack was back.

He winced, and hoped that Easton wouldn’t notice and take it personally. He didn’t, and kept chatting. Stiles would nod along, giving the proper responses when necessary to fake genuine interest. It wasn’t that he _wasn’t_ interested in what his partner was saying, it’s just that he had a lot on his mind.

Like how to get Derek to talk to him again.

Stiles had a feeling that if he showed up at the apartment and remained civil, Derek would give more than he had. At least to tell Stiles what they were tracking that brought them back to Beacon Hills. Frankly, he didn’t know what a Pack of werewolves had to track. They weren’t like hunters, they didn’t bother themselves with rogue or bad werewolves unless they were threatened for territorial reasons. But territorial reasons didn’t cause someone to track others.

And frankly, if it was territorial reasons, Stiles wasn’t sure Derek still had say over what happened in Beacon Hills. Besides, he definitely didn’t think hunters would agree to help the Pack if it were a territory war.

He just needed to find an angle, that was all. An angle on how to get the information he wanted, and frankly, needed. Because he meant it when he had said he felt he deserved an explanation. Didn’t he? There was something in him that felt conflicted. Because although he had spent the majority of the past ten years getting over the Pack leaving, he still had always questioned _why_. And no amount of therapy was every going to get him to stop questioning it. But now that he had the Pack back - maybe - did he really want to push for that explanation again?

Of course he did. Of course he wanted to know. He just didn’t know if he was going to like the answer.

“Stilinski, are you even looking?”

Stiles blinked, realizing he had zoned out too hard and had stopped reacting to Easton. He looked at what Easton was talking about, some tattoo on his ankle. A circle with three triangles inside it. Stiles thought it looked like a basic white girl glitter tattoo at a music festival.

“Oh, that’s cool. Where’d you get it done, that place on the other side of town?”

Easton rolled his eyes. “I knew you zoned out. No, it was specially done for me by Nowell.”

Stiles felt his eyebrows furrow. The Nowells were the leading family of hunters that took over after the Argents left, shortly after Allison's disappearance with the Pack. And Abe Nowell was the current boss, so to speak. The hunters Stiles worked with liked to say there wasn’t a hierarchy, that everyone was equal. But someone had to give commands, keep track of everyone to make sure the chaos they were tracking wasn’t met with more chaos. And it was hard to be the one giving command without being considered the boss. 

“How come?” Stiles mused, glancing back at his paperwork. He didn’t really care about whatever Nowell was encouraging now. He was known for being a little… strange at times. Maybe a little radical. Or maybe Stiles was too lenient. 

“Put some wolfsbane or something in it, I guess. Supposed to hurt one of _them_ if they hurt me, you know?”

It took everything Stiles had to not roll his eyes. Like he had thought, something weird and extravagant that Nowell had come up with. But Easton’s enthusiasm and belief was amusing for Stiles, and a nice distraction. It didn’t last long.

“I think Nowell said it’s Celtic…” Easton continued but Stiles found himself slipping, caught on the image. Celtic tattoo.

He hadn’t thought about Derek’s tattoo in ages. It had never crossed his mind when feeling nostalgic or sad. But it was hard to not think about it in this moment, the full back tattoo that held a deep familial meaning for the Hales, used practically everywhere. Stiles remembered when he learned about it, how it was one of those rare moments where Derek shared details about his life pre-fire without being prompted. It meant all the more when Derek had begun to use the symbol during Pack training. Stiles wasn’t really apart of the training as much as Scott was, but he was given permission to watch and keep track of progress. Sometimes he’d chime in or ask questions, but usually Derek ignored him. More often than not he just liked watching Derek in the Alpha role.

“But anyway, I have to show everyone the tattoo next week at our next meeting. It should be healed by then according to Nowall. He’s hoping that I’ll get some action and put it to the test this weekend when I’m going out with a few others. You’re not going this weekend right?”

Stiles shook his head, somewhat numbly. “No, not this weekend. I think next, but I’m not sure.”

“Eh probably for the best if you’re just gunna ditch again!” Easton nudged Stiles with his elbow, and Stiles managed a smile. “Kidding, kidding, of course. But still. We have no leads on the bastard from two nights ago so honestly you’re fine. And you should be so lucky to not go this weekend, it’s gunna be awful. Two hours out of town, maybe more depending on when we have to leave. And no motels, Christ. Just good ol' camping.”

Easton continued on complaining about camping, which put Stiles in a better mood. A hunter who didn’t like the outdoors was something distracting, amusing, and simple. Stiles put up with Easton’s unimportant banter while he returned back to his paperwork, continuing the filing of the car accident and the deer. The image of Derek’s back and the triskele tattoo remained nagging at the corner of Stiles’s mind.

-

When Stiles got home, he was exhausted. He ended up having to go out on an emergency call with Easton, but it ended up being a false alarm. A little girl’s mom fell asleep, but she panicked and called 911. The operator had promised her ice cream to help keep her calm, and when Stiles arrived, the first thing she asked for was the ice cream, not if her mom was okay. The mom, clearly, was okay; just confused but amused. Overall was not a tiring trip. Maybe a little annoying, although it was hard to blame a four year old girl who had just learned what 911 was.

The second he got inside, he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag in the doorway. He slouched upstairs to put on sweats, then slouched back downstairs to look in his fridge. Frankly, he didn’t want anything he had. Not because he had bad food, per se, he just didn’t feel up to cooking.

Stiles glanced at a few take out menus he had laying around, carrying them into the living room with him. He couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. This time not about the Pack, but about his dad. His dad who would come home after a shift, slump in the living room, and watch mindless TV. But whereas his dad had Stiles to help with dinner, Stiles was uncomfortably aware of how alone he was in the room at the moment.

He had dated on and off since high school. Some girls, some guys. But nothing serious. He felt like he couldn’t handle serious, too distracted by both of his jobs. Often that was the case for many of the other hunters; no one could ever keep a life partner while they had a work partner. They all joked it was because they needed to be on their feet 24/7, ready to jump into action and not tied down. But Stiles knew it was something more than that. Something about the type of person the profession attracted. 

Maybe because the last time he had thought he loved someone, it was a werewolf.

Stiles realized he had been digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands, and physically shook his head to clear away the thought. He tried not to think about that, about that relationship. It wasn’t even really a _relationship_. But the fact that he and Derek had begun sneaking around together only a couple weeks before the Pack left had stuck with Stiles longer than any other details regarding their disappearance. Longer even than his pain against Scott, which truly was saying something.

He stuck his nose into a Chinese take out menu, considering the trashy game shows he had put on TV weren’t enough of a distraction from the creeping thoughts, maybe food was. He was deciding whether or not to splurge and get eggrolls when his doorbell rang.

Stiles jumped in his seat, but immediately felt the need to spring into action, defensive cop/hunter mode turned on. He dropped the menu on the couch, using it for slight cover as he tried to peer inconspicuously through the windows. He pulled the curtain ever so slightly back, just enough to see who was standing on the doorstep. He felt instantly annoyed, although he couldn’t explain why exactly.

Walking slowly to the door, he opened it to see Scott standing, a pizza box in one hand and a six pack in the other. He looked at Stiles with a shy smile.

“Can I come in? I come with peace offerings.”

Every part of Stiles wanted to slam the door in Scott’s face, but instead, he sighed and pulled the door open. With a dramatic flourish of his arm, he watched Scott slowly walk into the house, glancing around him.

“You rent this place?” Scott gave a low whistle, and Stiles snorted.

Stiles nodded and glanced around too while closing the door behind Scott. He tried to look at his place the way someone would if they had never seen it before, trying to remember the way he had looked at it when he first moved in.

It was nice, he supposed. It wasn’t the first place he had rented since moving out of his dad's, it was definitely a major upgrade compared to the first couple. He was never sure what to call it, exactly. It wasn’t an apartment, at least not in the same sense of the word compared to what he had seen Stiles and Derek in the other day. It was a house just to himself, two bedroom one bath but separated between two floors. It was as cheap as any apartment downtown, though, and he prided himself in having a backyard. And although he wasn’t _technically_ downtown, he was close enough to experience the fun of being young in a small city while still having the advantage of woods at his reach. Besides, he figured it was important to have access to the woods from wherever he lived. Quick entry if anything was afoot.

But the place made him feel like an adult. It wasn’t a modern apartment complex, but a home. Something a little more… permanent. His dad was surprised when he had chosen it, but supported him nonetheless. And it was nice for hosting, the whole two times he’s had coworkers over for grilling and beers.

Stiles walked into the kitchen, and Scott followed. Stiles didn’t exactly feel like giving a tour of the house, but he could tell Scott was curious. 

“Let me take those.” Stiles reached a hand out and took the pizza and beers from Scott. “Bathroom is upstairs, first door on the left, if you need it There isn’t one down here. I think it used to be where the porch is. The people who had this place before me did a lot of renovations, but nothing that actually increased the price, y’know what I mean.”

Scott nodded absentmindedly, looking around the kitchen. It felt oddly normal, Stiles realized, having his childhood best friend in his house. Bringing beer and pizza over, as if nothing had changed.

Neither wanted to be the first to talk, so they chose to gather plates and open bottles in silence, sliding into the living room together as if they had done it hundreds of times before. In many ways, they had. Although it was never beers in high school - okay, maybe once or twice when Sheriff Stilinski had a night shift. All in all, it felt _right_.

The TV was on, but Stiles had a feeling neither of them were watching. Stiles almost expected Scott to just start gossiping or complaining like old times, while Stiles was the patient and understanding best friend. Today Derek made us do this dumb training… Today Allison said she wanted to try this… Can you believe he _flunked_ me… Your dad is a cop why can’t he get rid of this speeding ticket…

“I guess I should say something,” Scott laughed, although there was no humor in his voice. Just noise to fill in the silence. “Derek’s gunna kill me for this, you know.”

It was Stiles’s turn to give a dry laugh. It was almost a real one, reminiscing the early, early days when Scott would go against Derek’s orders to include Stiles in whatever was happening with the Pack. At first, Derek had been so protective of Stiles. Stiles had come to realize it wasn’t that Derek doubted him per se - although yes, he knew Stiles couldn’t perform some of the same physical tasks as the rest of the Pack - he just wanted to save Stiles’s humanity as long as possible, keep him out of the supernatural. Didn’t really work out that way, though.

“We _are_  tracking something, like I started to say, but none of us are quite sure what exactly it is. We first encountered it on the East Coast, I think maybe West Virginia. It just _attacked_ us, out of nowhere, but then it was like it was trying to lead us away, somewhere new and unsure.” Scott’s forehead crinkled in concentration, and Stiles truly saw the age in Scott for the first time. The 18-year-old Stiles used to know was gone, not even brought out by the crappy pizza and trashy TV in the background. “We teased the idea of following because it kept coming back, kept luring, but Derek wanted us to make sure we knew what we were doing. So we tried research, anything we could find, but it takes a long time to find reliable sources when you’re starting from absolutely zero. And it was zero because no one could get _close_ to it. Eventually Jackson did, though. Confirmed it was a werewolf, just… different. Not another breed of therianthrope, definitely something like us.”

Stiles flinched at the _us_. It was so comfortable, it almost felt like Scott was referring to Stiles as well. Scott shivered and was quiet for a moment, pensive in silence, before continuing.

“It was obviously leading us across the country. So the werewolves except Boyd followed it slowly. Boyd stayed with Allison and Lydia while they traveled by car, keeping contact and sticking as close they could. When we realized we were headed towards Beacon Hills, Derek immediately stopped us. He was frustrated, and ready to give up, go back to the East Coast. We had established some lost Hale connections in Pennsylvania, and were sort of traveling a bit together at the time hence why we were in West Virginia briefly.

“I was the one who convinced him we could come back to continue the search. Like he told you, I challenged him. Besides, we all knew he had kept the apartment you saw since we left. I was never really sure why, but I didn’t question him. Not my place y'know? Because that was the nature of all of this, Stiles.” Scott’s voice had turned pleading, but Stiles felt cold. “None of us wanted to leave. You know that, right? Derek left suddenly with no explanation, but because he has that Alpha _pull_ , it was impossible to resist. And whatever reason he had for leaving was _strong_. He was emotionally ruined. All of us felt physically ill being separated from him, and had no choice.”

Stiles blinked. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting Scott to say. In some ways, he expected that to be the excuse. That they couldn’t help it, they were a Pack, they felt the physical draw to one another, blah blah blah. It was like Derek had been saying the night of graduation, part of the reason he had been willing to give Stiles the bite, to bring him physically and spiritually closer to the rest of them. He didn’t want to admit it, but Stiles felt a small tear welling in one of his eyes.

“So what is it, then. The werewolf you’ve been tracking,” Stiles finally managed.

Scott shrugged. “We still don’t know. But we know you and you’re, er, colleagues have been tracking it too.”

Stiles remembered the werewolf from two nights ago. Wondered if the Pack had really been brought back by that. He had felt an odd connection to it, though he knew it wasn’t because he knew it. Was just reminded of those he did know.

“And now Derek wants my help," Stiles mused. 

“Kind of. Frankly? He wants your information.” Scott winced, realizing how bad that sounded. “Stiles, I don’t think he trusts you, not yet. He knows that realistically we'll need all the help we can get, he just doesn't know how to approach asking for help. He's not too fond of that.”

“Right, like I trust him either.” Stiles felt his lips thin as some of the old anger came bubbling back up. “Look, I appreciate you filling me in, but this doesn’t really help me, or give me much clarity. Or closure, for that matter. I get it, you think you didn’t have a choice to leave -”

“I didn’t -”

“But I didn’t have much of a choice in return. We covered this already. As for whatever information we have about this wolf, it’s not much. Takes a shit ton to kill it. We landed at least five bullets in it, but it kept getting back up.”

Scott had the decency to look scared at that, but Stiles knew he wasn’t scared at the fact that the creature they had in common couldn’t be killed. It was the fact that Stiles had shot at a werewolf, had attempted to _kill_ a werewolf. Stiles hadn't even told Scott that he has been successful in his ten years of practice. But t was enough, as if Scott was finally realizing the depth of Stiles’s new job, realizing the threat he possessed for the first time against the Pack. Stiles felt the power with that, the importance. 

He was ready to see how far he could run with it.

“Will you ever tell me why Derek left, if you're already going behind his back?”

Frowning, Scott looked at Stiles with an unfamiliar sadness. “Stiles, I wish I could. But I don’t _know_ why. Derek didn’t tell us, wouldn’t tell us. Probably thought we’d communicate it to you, somehow. I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but I really have no idea.” Scott took a deep breath in, then spoke with a less sadness, and a sort of confidence. “But we’re back now, I think. For a good amount of time, if not permanently. Whatever this thing is, it’s got Derek _hooked_. He’s invested in finding out more, even though he thinks we’re in danger. Pretty stupid if you ask me, but it’s nice being back.”

Stiles nodded numbly. Scott was right, Stiles had a hard time believing him. He knew that even if Scott knew, he would be going against Derek by telling him. But he was going against Derek by telling him why they were there in the first place, so maybe… maybe he really _didn’t_ know.

“I’m glad I'm back, Stiles,” Scott mumbled, nearly whispered. Stiles couldn’t help but smile a little, and quickly, Scott was smiling too.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t nearly as close to what things used to be like. Stiles, for the first time in the past 48 hours, felt hope. And for the first time in years, felt that desire to be apart of the Pack again. It was conflicting, but he decided in this moment, with Scott, he could let himself enjoy it.

“Also, I should tell you…” Scott chewed in his lip for a second, and Stiles felt his smile slip. “When I convinced Derek that we should come back here, he mentioned something about you. I don’t think he meant to say it out loud really, but he said he wondered if it was time. Honestly, at first I thought maybe he just meant if it was time to see you again. But now, after hearing what you two were talking about. I mean, about the bite…” Scott trailed off.

Stiles realized Scott was essentially asking a question, confirming what Stiles. “The night of graduation, Derek offered me the bite. It’s why we were spending so much time together that first month of summer, before you all left. I was contemplating accepting. But while I was contemplating, I made him promise to keep it a secret from the rest of you. I suppose he kept that secret.”

And with that, Stiles had no idea how to continue the conversation, let alone his own thoughts. He knew that Scott understood, and the two remained in silence, eating, and enjoying one another's company. 


End file.
